


I Heard Somebody Whisper Please Adore Me

by Lincoln_still_sucks



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Praise Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:14:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23922169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lincoln_still_sucks/pseuds/Lincoln_still_sucks
Summary: A summer night with champagne and the only person House could truly tolerate
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 9
Kudos: 124





	I Heard Somebody Whisper Please Adore Me

**Author's Note:**

> Tender pwp Hilson. There really isn’t much to say, I just yearn for romance and if I can’t have it, these idiots can  
> Also, yes, the title is from a Dean Martin song (Blue Moon specifically), I’m incredibly sappy okay

The two had a few to drink, and in that moment, the apartment was hazy and warm, delightfully so. One of House’s cherished records is playing (Dean Martin if Wilson remembered clearly, although his mind was anything but clear) as they swayed, House’s hands resting easily on Wilson’s shoulders, Wilson’s on House’s waist. They’re so close, Wilson’s face was buried in the crook of his partner’s neck, savoring the scent that was just so very  _ him _ . They could feel each other’s pulse, melded into one steady heartbeat with such proximity.

It was all intoxicating, almost more so than the champagne that Wilson had presented in such a gentlemanly manner for seemingly no reason whatsoever. House was admittedly a sucker for lavish romantic gestures, the chocolates, the flowers, fine wines, they all appealed so greatly to a dumb and lovestruck House, and he never wanted it any other way. 

The kisses Wilson lazily lavished upon House’s neck were warm, sloppy and full of Wilson’s unmistakable brand of love. All emotion, all poetic desire and completely unconditional. It was enough to make a grown man fall in love, but House was well beyond that conclusion. 

The last beams of sunlight were filtering in, a golden glow cast upon softened features. Wilson was pleasantly warm, so soft and perfect to the touch. It was everything either could have wanted, like something pulled straight from a fantasy animating itself right in their living room. 

A shot of pain in House’s leg reminded him of how long he had been standing. He had no desire to stop, but knew if it were to get too bad, that would be far less pleasant than simply sitting down. 

“Have to sit, leg.” House stated, words slurred in both his mental fog and mild drunkenness. Wilson nodded, and they moved together to their bedroom, never completely parting from each other’s embrace. Their hands lingered anywhere they could, wherever they fit naturally, gluttonous for all that was each other. House settled first on their bed, Wilson joining soon after, hands wandering everywhere they could, leaving behind a trail of warmth.

It was Wilson who always initiated it, he wasn’t shy when he wanted something. He grabbed the hem of House’s shirt, and pulled it over his head. House obliged, lifting his arms so Wilson could get it off in an easy manner (as much as House loved being difficult, he also loved being touched by Wilson) and House made quick work of divesting Wilson of his shirt. There was always some kind of pride that swelled in Wilson’s chest to see House in such a tender state, knowing that all of this belonged to him, and always would. 

“I love you,” Wilson said in a breathy voice as he started to undress House the rest of the way. How House wanted to make a sarcastic comment, to pull all of this back to earth, but nothing came up. He couldn’t deny a fact that was so visibly true.

“I love you too.” House finally replied, which made Wilson break out in this goofy smile House had always loved. As they managed to shimmy out of their last bits of clothing, it was impossible to break them apart. Wilson settled himself between House’s legs, spreading them like he had so many times before. He leaned forward and fumbled in the dresser drawer for a second before extracting a bottle, then dripped the contents over his fingers. He spent a moment rubbing it in his hands before getting to the main attraction. 

Wilson dipped a finger into House, who let out a soft huff of breath, encouraging Wilson to continue. He was slow and deliberate, which would have usually driven House half mad, but he was tipsy and feeling a bit slow. He didn’t mind letting Wilson take his time.

Wilson has worked in a second finger, all the while pressing wet kisses to House’s body, down his neck, chest, anywhere that just seemed right. It felt heavenly, and so easily intimate. It wasn’t long before Wilson replaced his fingers, covering his cock in the slick that was on his fingers (and a bit more for good measure) and teasing against his hole. This was where House’s patience proved its limits.

“Jesus Christ Jimmy, just put it in.” House moaned, draping an arm over his forehead for dramatic effect. Wilson chuckled, kissed House on the cheek, and did as directed, sliding in with little resistance. He started up a rhythm, slow and languid, making special sure to hit that sweet spot every so often. House whined a bit, unable to stop the sound before it spilled from his lips, which only spurred Wilson on all the more. He sped up, burying his face in House’s shoulder, giving House the chance to really touch. He always felt bad for just taking it, always found any opportunity to feel Wilson. He rested a hand at the nape of his neck, burying his face in Wilson’s hair (which was admittedly quite damp with sweat but House always liked that). He smelled faintly of some shampoo, cinnamon and something else warm, but mostly of sweat. He smelled great in a way House could only describe as just being very Wilson.

“Shit, you’re so pretty like this. So gorgeous,” Wilson groaned. It was quite like him to be sappy, even when buried inside of House’s ass. House had never received much praise during sex before Wilson, but since then, he was hooked.

Wilson took hold of House’s neglected cock, standing tall and red at the lack of contact. That was when House realized he wouldn’t last particularly long, Wilson’s hands working so expertly, his grip tight and fast, exactly how he knew House liked it. He let out a string of curses, Wilson’s name frequently finding its way into his obscene babbling, and Wilson wasn’t much better off. His hips bucked up against the touch, seeking that blissful feeling he knew was so soon.

“Fucking hell, Jimmy-“ House couldn’t help but moan out. Wilson practically whimpered at that, a jolt of arousal, more electrifying than the ones before shot through him at the praise. House always knew how to make him weak.

“Fuck, keep- faster,” House continued, muttering incoherent praises as Wilson pounded him into the mattress. It wasn’t long before House’s hips stuttered, and he moaned in a manner all too loud as the bliss of orgasm settled over him. It felt so fucking good, electrifying and utterly heavenly, effectively turning House into a heap of what he was. Wilson retracted his hand, wiping it on the bed sheets as he prepared for his own climax.

Wilson soon followed suit, gripping House’s waist as he drove himself in as deep as he could and spilled in him. It felt odd, House could never get used to the feeling of being filled with Wilson’s seed, but Wilson had a major thing for being able to cum inside, and who was House to deny him of such a simple pleasure.

Wilson collapsed quite dramatically, careful to avoid House’s bad leg as he did so. They took a moment to catch their breath, panting quite loudly for a few seconds. Wilson wrapped an arm around House and held him close until he could bear to sit up. House groaned, feeling too boneless to get up and missing the contact.

“We need to clean up.” Wilson commanded in the least commanding voice to exist. House groaned again, cuddling into the blankets more as if to spite Wilson. He grabbed a pillow and shoved it against his face.

“Nope, too tired.” House mumbled into the pillow. Wilson chuckled, and stood up, looming over House. He would physically move him if that’s what it took to get him in the shower.

“The one time I didn’t make you shower, you complained the entire day about feeling gross.” Wilson tried to reason with a sigh. This happened every time, it was obnoxious and endearing, as were most of House’s traits.

“Well maybe if you didn’t insist on trying to impregnate me, cleaning wouldn’t be as pressing of an issue.” House set the pillow off to the side in fear of suffocating himself with it. Wilson slipped an arm under House’s back and forced him to sit up, and that was when House knew just how useless it was to fight.

“I’d still make you do it, sweat is just as gross.” Wilson commented, despite knowing House was fully aware of that. House finally started moving, sluggish but most certainly moving in the direction of the shower.

“Fuck you.” House said, not meaning it.

“I love you too.” Wilson replied,  _ absolutely _ meaning it.

**Author's Note:**

> Follow my tumblr for House shitposting @ Lincoln-still-sucks


End file.
